Apparitions -- Fiction; Aunts -- Fiction; People with disabilities -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
[A] A fact. Said in the writer's presence by a young clergyman of the
same breed as the one here described.
Chapter the Eleventh
The repairs to the ceiling in Austin's room were now finished, and it
was with great satisfaction that he resumed possession of his old
quarters. The mysterious events that had befallen him when he slept
there last, some weeks before, recurred very vividly to his mind as he
found himself once more amid the familiar surroundings, and although
he heard no more raps or anything else of an abnormal nature, he felt
that, whatever dangers might threaten him in the future, he would
always be protected by those he thought of as his unseen friends. Aunt
Charlotte, meanwhile, had taken an opportunity of consulting the vicar
as to the orthodoxy of a belief in guardian angels, and the vicar had
reassured her at once by referring her to the Collect for St Michael
and All Angels, in which we are invited to pray that they may succour
and defend us upon earth; so that there really was nothing
superstitious in the conclusion that, as Austin had undoubtedly been
succoured and defended in a very remarkable manner on more than one
occasion, some benevolent entity from a better world might have had a
hand in it. The worthy lady, of course, could not resist the
temptation of informing Mr Sheepshanks of what her bankers had said
about the investment he had so earnestly urged upon her, and the vicar
seemed greatly surprised. He had not put any money into it himself, it
was true, but was being sorely tempted by another prospectus he had
just received of an enterprise for recovering the baggage which King
John lost some centuries ago in the Wash. The only consideration that
made him hesitate was the uncertainty whether, in view of the
perishable nature of the things themselves, they would be worth very
much to anybody if ever they were fished up.
"Austin," said Aunt Charlotte, two days afterwards at breakfast, "I
have had another letter from Mr Ogilvie. Of course I wrote to him when
I heard first, saying how pleased I should be to see him whenever he
was in the neighbourhood again; and now I have his reply. He proposes
to call here to-morrow afternoon, and have a cup of tea with us."
"So the fateful day has come at last," remarked Austin. "Very well,
auntie, I'll make myself scarce while you're talking over old times
together, but I insist on coming in before he goes, remember. I'm
awfully curious to see what he's like. Do you think he wears a wig?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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